on of a poet, and though a Christian prelate, almost a
worshipper of the sweet fictions of pagan mythology; and when his pen
was kept pure from satire or adulation, to which it was too much
accustomed, it became a pencil. He paints with rapture his gardens
bathed by the waters of the lake; the shade and freshness of his woods;
his green slopes; his sparkling fountains, the deep silence and calm of
his solitude! A statue was raised in his gardens to Nature! In his hall
stood a fine statue of Apollo, and the Muses around, with their
attributes. His library was guarded by a Mercury, and there was an
apartment adorned with Doric columns, and with pictures of the most
pleasing subjects dedicated to the Graces! Such was the interior!
Without, the transparent lake here spread its broad mirror, and there
was seen luminously winding by banks covered with olives and laurels; in
the distance, towns, promontories, hills rising in an amphitheatre,
blushing with vines, and the first elevation of the Alps, covered with
woods and pasture, and sprinkled with herds and flocks.

It was in a central spot of this enchanting habitation that a cabinet or
gallery was erected, where Jovius had collected with prodigal cost the
portraits of celebrated men; and it was to explain and to describe the
characteristics of these illustrious names that he had composed his
eulogies. This collection became so remarkable, that the great men his
contemporaries presented our literary collector with their own
portraits, among whom the renowned Fernandez Cortes sent Jovius his
before he died, and probably others who were less entitled to enlarge
the collection; but it is equally probable that our caustic Jovius would
throw them aside. Our historian had often to describe men more famous
than virtuous; sovereigns, politicians, poets, and philosophers, men of
all ranks, countries, and ages, formed a crowded scene of men of genius
or of celebrity; sometimes a few lines compress their character, and
sometimes a few pages excite his fondness. If he sometimes adulates the
living, we may pardon the illusions of a contemporary; but he has the
honour of satirising some by the honest freedom of a pen which
occasionally broke out into premature truths.

Such was the inspiration of literature and leisure which had embellished
the abode of Jovius, and had raised in the midst of the Lake of Como a
cabinet of portraits; a noble tribute to those who are "the salt of the
earth.